So like in person, garb, and pitch,
'Twas hard t' interpret which was which.
For Ralpho had no sooner told
The lady all he had t' unfold,
But she convey'd him out of sight,
To entertain the approaching knight;
And, while he gave himself diversion,
T'accommodate his beast and person,
And put his beard into a posture
At best advantage to accost her,
She order'd th' antimasquerade
(For his reception) aforesaid:
But, when the ceremony was done,
The lights put out, the Furies gone,
And Hudibras, among the rest,
Convey'd away, as Ralpho guess'd,
The wretched caitiff, all alone,
(As he believ'd) began to moan,
And tell his story to himself,
The knight mistook him for an elf;
And did so still, till he began

To scruple at Ralph's outward man,
And thought, because they oft agreed
T' appear in one another's stead,

And act the saint's and Devil's part,
With undistinguishable art,

They might have done so now, perhaps,
And put on one another's shapes;
And therefore, to resolve the doubt,
He star'd upon him, and cry'd out,
"What art? My squire, or that bold sprite
That took his place and shape to-night?
Some busy independent pug,
Retainer to his synagogue?"

"Alas!" quoth he, "I'm none of those
Your bohn friends, as you suppose,
But Ralph himself, your trusty squire,

Who 'as dragg'd your Dunship out o' th' mire,
And from th' enchantments of a widow,

Who 'ad turn'd you int' a beast, have freed you;

And, though a prisoner of war,

Have brought you safe, where now you are;

Which you would gratefully repay

Your constant presbyterian way."

Deny'd your whipping, and confess'd
The naked truth of all the rest,
More plainly than the reverend writer
That to our churches veil'd his mitre;
All which they took in black and white,
And cudgell'd me to underwrite."
"What made thee, when they all were gone,
And none but thou and I alone,

To act the Devil, and forbear

To rid me of my hellish fear?"

Quoth he, "I knew your constant rate,
And frame of spirit too obstinate,

To be by me prevail'd upon,
With any motives of my own;

And therefore strove to counterfeit
The Devil a while, to nick your wit;
The Devil, that is your constant crony,
That only can prevail upon ye;
Else we might still have been disputing,
And they with weighty drubs confuting."
The knight, who now began to find
They 'ad left the enemy behind,
And saw no further harm remain
But feeble weariness and pain,
Perceiv'd, by losing of their way,
They 'ad gain'd th' advantage of the day,
And, by declining of the road,

They had, by chance, their rear made good,
He ventur'd to dismiss his fear,

That partings wont to rant and tear,

And give the desperat'st attack

To danger still behind its back:
For, having paus'd to recollect,
And on his past success reflect;
T'examine and consider why,
And whence, and how, he came to fly;
And, when no Devil had appear'd,
What else it could be said he fear'd:
It put him in so fierce a rage,

He once resolv'd to re-engage;
Toss'd, like a foot-ball, back again

With shame, and vengeance, and disdain.
Quoth he," It was thy cowardice
That made me from this leaguer rise,

Who gave thee notice of my danger?"

Quoth he, "Th' infernal conjurer

Pursu'd, and took me prisoner;

And, knowing you were hereabout,
Brought me along, to find you out.
Where I, in hugger-mugger hid,
Have noted all they said or did:
And, though they lay to him the pageant,
I did not see him, nor his agent;
Who play'd their sorceries out of sight,
T' avoid a fiercer, second fight."
"But didst thou see no devils then?"

"Not one," quoth he, "but carnal men,
A little worse than fiends in Hell,
And that she-devil Jezabel,

That laugh'd and tee-he'd with derision, To see them take your deposition."

What then," quoth Hudibras, "was he

That play'd the Devil to examine me?"
A rallying weaver in the town,
That did it in a parson's gown;
Whom all the parish takes for gifted,
But for my part I ne'er believ'd it:
In which you told them all your feats,
our conscientious frauds and cheats;

To quit it infamously base:

Was better cover'd by the new-
Arriv'd detachment, than I knew;
To slight my new acquests, and run,
Victoriously, from battles won;
And, reckoning all I gain'd or lost,
To sell them cheaper than they cost;
To make me put myself to flight,
And, conquering, run away by night;
To drag me out, which th' haughty foe
Durst never have presum'd to do;
To mount me in the dark, by force,
Upon the bare ridge of my horse,
Expos'd in querpo to their rage,
Without my arms and equipage;
Lest, if they ventur'd to pursue,
I might th' unequal fight renew;
And, to preserve thy outward man,
Assum'd my place, and led the van,"
"All this," quoth Ralph, "I did, 'tis true,
Not to preserve myself, but you:
You, who were damn'd to baser drubs
Than wretches feel in powdering-tubs;
To mount two-wheel'd caroches, worse
Than managing a wooden horse;

Dragg'd out through straiter holes by th' ears, Eras'd, or coup'd for perjurers;

Who, though th' attempt had prov'd in vain, Had had no reason to complain;

But, since it prosper'd, 'tis unhandsome

To blame the hand that paid your ransom,
And rescued your obnoxious bones
From unavoidable battoons.
The enemy was reinforc'd,
And we disabled and unhors'd,
Disarm'd, unqualify'd for fight,
And no way left but hasty flight,

Which, though as desperate in th' attempt,
Has given you freedom to condemn 't.

"But, were our bones in fit condition
To reinforce the expedition,
'Tis now unseasonable and vain

To think of falling on again:
No martial project to surprise
Can ever be attempted twice,
Nor cast design serve afterwards,
As gamesters tear their losing-cards.
Beside, our bangs of man and beast
Are fit for nothing now but rest,
And for a while will not be able
To rally, and prove serviceable:
And therefore I, with reason, chose
This stratagem t' amuse our foes,
To make an honourable retreat,
And wave a total sure defeat:
For those that fly may fight again,
Which he can never do that 's slain.
Hence timely running 's no mean part
Of conduct, in the martial art;
By which some glorious feats achieve,
As citizens by breaking thrive,
And cannons conquer armies, while
They seem to draw off and recoil;

Is held the gallant'st course, and bravest,
To great exploits, as well as safest ;
That spares th' expense of time and pains,
And dangerous beating out of brains;
And, in the end, prevails as certain
As those that never trust to Fortune
But make their fear do execution
Beyond the stoutest resolution;
As earthquakes kill without a blow,
And, only trembling, overthrow.

If th' ancients crown'd their bravest men,
That only sav'd a citizen,
What victory could e'er be won,
If every one would save but one?
Or fight endanger'd to be lost,
Where all resolve to save the most?
By this means, when a battle 's won,
The war 's as far from being done;
For those that save themselves, and fly,
Go halves, at least, i' th' victory;
And sometime, when the loss is small,
And danger great, they challenge all;
Print new additions to their feats,
And emendations in Gazettes;
And when, for furious haste to run,
They durst not stay to fire a gun,
Have done 't with bonfires, and at home
Made squibs and crackers overcome;
To set the rabble on a flame,
And keep their governors from blame,
Disperse the news the pulpit tells,
Confirm'd with fireworks and with bells;

And, though reduc'd to that extreme,
They have been forc'd to sing Te Deum ;
Yet, with religious blasphemy,

By flattering Heaven with a lie,

And, for their beating, giving thanks,

They 'ave rais'd recruits, and fill'd their banks;
For those who run from th' enemy,
Engage them equally to fly;

And, when the fight becomes a chase,
Those win the day that win the race;
And that which would not pass in fights,
Has done the feat with easy flights,
Recover'd many a desperate campaign
With Bourdeaux, Burgundy, and Champaign;
Restor'd the fainting high and mighty
With brandy-wine, and aqua-vitæ ;
And made them stoutly overcome
With Bacrack, Hoccamore, and Mum;
Whom th' uncontroll'd decrees of Fate
To victory necessitate;

With which, although they run or burn,
They unavoidably return;

Or else their sultan populaces
Still strangle all their routed bassas."

Quoth Hudibras, "I understand
What fights thou mean'st at sea and land,
And who those were that run away,
And yet gave out they 'ad won the day;
Although the rabble sous'd them for 't,
O'er head and ears, in mud and dirt.
'Tis true, our modern way of war
Is grown more politic by far,
But not so resolute and bold,
Nor ty'd to honour, as the old.
For now they laugh at giving battle,
Unless it be to herds of cattle;
Or fighting convoys of provision,
The whole design o' th' expedition,
And not with downright blows to rout
The enemy, but eat them out:
As fighting, in all beasts of prey,
And eating, are perform'd one way,

To give defiance to their teeth,

And fight their stubborn guts to death;

And those achieve the high'st renown,

That bring the other stomachs down.

There's now no fear of wounds nor maiming,

All dangers are reduc'd to famine,
And feats of arms, to plot, design,
Surprise, and stratagem, and mine;
But have no need nor use of courage,
Unless it be for glory or forage:
For if they fight, 'tis but by chance,
When one side, venturing to advance,
And come uncivilly too near,
Are charg'd unmercifully i' th' rear,
And fore'd, with terrible resistance,
To keep hereafter at a distance;
To pick out ground t' encamp upon,
Where store of largest rivers run,
That serve, instead of peaceful barriers,
To part th' engagements of their warriors
Where both from side to side may skip,
And only' encounter at bo-peep:
For men are found the stouter-hearted,
The certainer they 're to be parted,
And therefore post themselves in bogs,
As th' ancient mice attack'd the frogs,
And made their mortal enemy,
The water-rat, their strict ally.

For 'tis not now who's stout and bold?
But who bears hunger best, and cold.
And he 's approv'd the most deserving,
Who longest can hold out at starving;
And he that routs most pigs and cows,
The formidablest man of prowess.
So th' emperor Caligula,

That triumph'd o'er the British sea,
Took crabs and oysters prisoners,
And lobsters, 'stead of cuirassiers;
Engag'd his legions in fierce bustles,
With periwinkles, prawns, and muscles,
And led his troops with furious gallops,
To charge whole regiments of scallops;
Not like their ancient way of war,
To wait on his triumphal car;
But, when he went to dine or sup,
More bravely ate his captives up,
And left all war, by his example,
Reduc'd to victualling of a camp well."
Quoth Ralph," By all that you have said,
And twice as much that I could add,
"Tis plain you cannot now do worse
Than take this out-of-fashion'd course,
To hope, by stratagem, to woo her,
Or waging battle to subdue her;
Though some have done it in romances,
And bang'd them into amorous fancies;
As those who won the Amazons,
By wanton drubbing of their bones;
And stout Rinaldo gain'd his bride
By courting of her back and side.
But, since those times and feats are over,
They are not for a modern lover,
When mistresses are too cross-grain'd
By such addresses to be gain'd;
And if they were, would have it out,
With many another kind of bout.
Therefore I hold no course so infeasible,
As this of force, to win the Jezabel,
To storm her heart, by th' antic charms
Of ladies errant, force of arms;
But rather strive by law to win her,
And try the title you have in her.
Your case is clear, you have her word
And me to witness the accord;
Besides two more of her retinue
To testify what pass'd between you;
More probable, and like to hold,
Than hand, or seal, or breaking gold,
For which so many, that renounc'd

Their plighted contracts, have been trounc'd,
And bills upon record been found,
That fore'd the ladies to compound;
And that, unless I miss the matter,
Is all the business you look after.
Besides, encounters at the bar
Are braver now than those in war,
In which the law does execution,
With less disorder and confusion;
Has more of honour in 't, some hold,
Not like the new way, but the old,
When those the pen had drawn together,
Decided quarrels with the feather,
And winged arrows kill'd as dead,
And more than bullets now of lead:
So all their combats now, as then,
Are manag'd chiefly by the pen ;.
That does the feat, with braver vigours,
In words at length, as well as figures;

Is judge of all the world performs
In voluntary feats of arms,
And, whatsoe'er 's achiev'd in fight,
Determines which is wrong or right:
For whether you prevail or lose,
All must be try'd there in the close:
And therefore 'tis not wise to shun
What you must trust to ere ye 've done.
"The law, that settles all you do,
And marries where you did but woo;
That makes the most perfidious lover,
A lady, that 's as false, recover;
And, if it judge upon your side,
Will soon extend her for your bride,
And put her person, goods, or lands,
Or which you like best, int' your hands.
"For law 's the wisdom of all ages,
And manag'd by the ablest sages;
Who, though their business at the bar
Be but a kind of civil war,

In which th' engage with fiercer dudgeons
Than e'er the Grecians did, and Trojans,
They never manage the contest
T' impair their public interest,
Or by their controversies lessen
The dignity of their profession:
Not like us brethren, who divide
Our common-wealth, the cause, and side;
And, though we 're all as near of kindred
As th' outward man is to the inward,
We agree in nothing, but to wrangle
About the slightest fingle-fangle;
While lawyers have more sober sense,
Than t' argue at their own expense,
But make their best advantages
Of others' quarrels, like the Swiss;
And, out of foreign controversies,
By aiding both sides, fill their purses;
But have no interest in the cause
For which th' engage, and wage the laws,
Nor further prospect than their pay,
Whether they lose or win the day.
And, though th' abounded in all ages
With sundry learned clerks and sages;
Though all their business be dispute,
Which way they canvass every suit,
They 've no disputes about their art,
Nor in polemics controvert;

While all professions else are found
With nothing but disputes t' abound:
Divines of all sorts, and physicians,
Philosophers, mathematicians,
The Galenist and Paracelsian,
Condemn the way each other deals in;
Anatomists dissect and mangle,
To cut themselves out work to wrangle;
Astrologers dispute their dreams,
That in their sleeps they talk of schemes;
And heralds stickle who got who,
So many hundred years ago.

"But lawyers are too wise a nation
T" expose their trade to disputation,
Or make the busy rabble judges
Of all their secret piques and grudges;
In which, whoever wins the day,
The whole profession 's sure to pay.
Beside, no mountebanks, nor cheats,
Dare undertake to do their feats,
When in all other sciences
They swarm like insects, and increase

"For what bigot durst ever draw,
By inward light, a deed in law?
Or could hold forth, by revelation,
An answer to a declaration?

For those that meddle with their tools,
Will cut their fingers, if they're fools:
And if you follow their advice,
In bills, and answers, and replies,
They'll write a love-letter in chancery,
Shall bring her upon oath to answer ye,
And soon reduce her to b' your wife,
Or make her weary of her life."

The knight, who us'd with tricks and shifts To edify by Ralpho's gifts,

But in appearance cry'd him down,
To make them better seem his own,
(All plagiaries' constant course
Of sinking, when they take a purse)
Resolv'd to follow his advice,
But kept it from him by disguise;
And, after stubborn contradiction,
To counterfeit his own conviction,
And, by transition, fall upon
The resolution, as his own,

Quoth he, "This gambol thou advisest

Is, of all others, the unwisest ;
For, if I think by law to gain her,
There's nothing sillier nor vainer.
"Tis but to hazard my pretence,
Where nothing 's certain but th' expense;
To act against myself, and traverse
My suit and title to her favours;
And if she should, which Heaven forbid,
O'erthrow me, as the fiddler did,
What after-course have I to take,
'Gainst losing all I have at stake?
He that with injury is griev'd,
And goes to law to be reliev'd,
Is sillier than a sottish chouse,

Who, when a thief has robb'd his house,
Applies himself to cunning-men,
To help him to his goods again;
When all he can expect to gain
Is but to squander more in vain:
And yet I have no other way,
But is as difficult, to play:
For to reduce her by main force

Is now in vain; by fair means, worse;
But worst of all to give her over,
Till she 's as desperate to recover:
For bad games are thrown up too soon,
Until they 're never to be won.
But, since I have no other course,
But is as bad t' attempt, or worse,
He that complies against his will,
Is of his own opinion still,

Which he may adhere to, yet disown,
For reasons to himself best known;
But 'tis not to b' avoided now,
For Sidrophel resolves to sue;
Whom I must answer, or begin,
Inevitably, first with him;
For I've receiv'd advertisement,
By times enough, of his intent;
And, knowing he that first complains
Th' advantage of the business gains;
For courts of justice understand
The plaintiff to be eldest hand;
Who what he pleases may aver,
The other nothing till he swear;

Is freely admitted to all grace,
And lawful favour, by his place;
And, for his bringing custom in,
Has all advantages to win:
I, who resolve to oversee
No lucky opportunity,

Will go to counsel, to advise
Which way t' encounter or surprise;
And, after long consideration,

Have found out one to fit th' occasion,
Most apt for what I have to do,
As counsellor, and justice too.”
And truly so, no doubt, he was,
A lawyer fit for such a case.

An old duil sot, who told the clock,
For many years, at Bridewell Dock,
At Westminster, and Hick's Hall,
And hiccius doctius play'd in all;
Where, in all governments and times,
He 'ad been both friend and foe to crimes,
And us'd two equal ways of gaining,
By hindering justice, or maintaining:
To many a whore gave privilege,
And whipp'd, for want of quarterage;
Cart-loads of bawds to prison sent,
For being behind a fortnight's rent;
And many a trusty pimp and crony
To Puddle Dock, for want of money;
Engag'd the constable to seize

All those that would not break the peace;
Nor give him back his own foul words,
Though sometimes commoners or lords,
And kept them prisoners of course,
For being sober at ill hours;
That in the morning he might free,
Or bind them over, for his fee:
Made monsters fine, and puppet-plays,
For leave to practise in their ways;
Farm'd out all cheats, and went a share
With th' headborough and scavenger;
And made the dirt i' th' streets compound
For taking up the public ground;
The kennel, and the king's highway,
For being unmolested, pay;

Let out the stocks, and whipping-post,
And cage, to those that gave him most;
Impos'd a tax on bakers' ears,
And, for false weights, on chandeleers;
Made victuallers and vintners fine
For arbitrary ale and wine;

But was a kind and constant friend

To all that regularly' offend ;

As residentiary bawds,

And brokers that receive stol'n goods;
That cheat in lawful mysteries,
And pay church-duties and his fees;
But was implacable and awkward
To all that interlop'd and hawker'd.

To this brave man the knight repairs
For counsel in his law affairs;
And found him mounted, in his pew,
With books and money plac'd for shew,
Like nest-eggs, to make clients lay,
And for his false opinion pay:

To whom the knight, with comely grace,
Put off his hat, to put his case;
Which he as proudly entertain'd
As th' other courteously strain'd;
And, to assure him 'twas not that
He look'd for, bid him put on 's hat.

Quoth he, "There is one Sidrophel Whom I have cudgel'd"—" Very well." "And now he brags to have beaten me". "Better, and better still," quoth he. "And vows to stick me to a wall, Where'er he meets me"-" Best of all." ""Tis true the knave has taken 's oath, That I robb'd him"-" Well done, in troth." "When he 'as confess'd he stole my cloak, And pick'd my fob, and what he took;

Which was the cause that made me bang him, And take my goods again"-" Marry, hang him." "Now, whether I should beforehand,

Swear he robb'd me?"-" I understand." "Or bring my action of conversion

And trover for my goods ?"-" Ah, whoreson." "Or, if 'tis better to indict,

And bring him to his trial?"-" Right." "Prevent what he designs to do,

And swear for th' state against him ?"-"True." "Or whether he that is defendant,

In this case has the better end on 't;
Who, putting in a new cross-bill,

May traverse the action ?"-"Better still."
"Then there's a lady, too"-" Aye, marry."
"That's easily prov'd accessary;

A widow, who, by solemn vows
Contracted to me, for my spouse,
Combin'd with him to break her word,
And has abetted all"-" Good Lord !"
"Suborn'd th' aforesaid Sidrophel
To tamper with the Devil of Hell;
Who put m' into a horrid fear,
Fear of my life"-" Make that appear."
"Made an assault with fiends and men
Upon my body"-"Good again."
"And kept me in a deadly fright,
And false imprisonment, all night.
Meanwhile they robb'd me, and my horse,
And stole my saddle”—“ Worse and worse."
“And made me mount upon the bare ridge,
T'avoid a wretcheder miscarriage."

66

Sir," quoth the lawyer, "not to flatter ye,
You have as good and fair a battery
As heart can wish, and need not shame
The proudest man alive to claim:
For if they 've us'd you as you say,
Marry, quoth I, God give you joy;
I would it were my case, I'd give
More than I'll say, or you'll believe:
I would so trounce her, and her purse,
I'd make her kneel for better or worse;
For matrimony and hanging, here,
Both go by destiny so clear,

That you as sure may pick and choose,
As cross I win, and pile you lose:
And, if I durst, I would advance
As much in ready maintenance,
As upon any case I've known;
But we that practise dare not own:
The law severely contrabands

Our taking business off men's hands;
Tis common barratry, that bears
Point-blank an action 'gainst our ears,
And crops them till there is not leather,
To stick a pin in, left of either;
For which some do the summer-sault,
And o'er the bar, like tumblers, vault:
But you may swear, at any rate,
Things not in nature, for the state;

For in all courts of justice here,

A witness is not said to swear,

But make oath; that is, in plain terms,
To forge whatever he affirms."

"I thank you," quoth the knight, "for that, Because 'tis to my purpose pat.”—

"For Justice, though she 's painted blind,

Is to the weaker side inclin'd,

Like Charity; else right and wrong
Could never hold it out so long,
And, like blind Fortune, with a sleight
Convey men's interest and right
From Stiles's pocket into Nokes's,
As easily as hocus pocus;

Plays fast and loose, makes men obnoxious;
And clear again, like hiccius doctius.
Then, whether you would take her life,
Or but recover her for your wife,
Or be content with what she has,
And let all other matters pass,
The business to the law 's alone,
The proof is all it looks upon;
And you can want no witnesses,
To swear to any thing you please,
That hardly get their mere expenses
By th' labour of their consciences,
Or letting out, to hire, their ears
To affidavit customers,

At inconsiderable values,

To serve for jurymen, or tales,
Although retain'd in th' hardest matters
Of trustees and administrators."

"For that," quoth he, "let me alone; We've store of such, and all our own, Bred up and tutor'd by our teachers,

The ablest of conscience-stretchers."

"That's well," quoth he; "but I should guess, By weighing all advantages,

Your surest way is first to pitch
On Bongey for a water-witch;
And when ye 've bang'd the conjurer,
Ye 've time enough to deal with her.
In th' interim spare for no trepans

To draw her neck into the banns;

Ply her with love-letters and billets,

And bait them well, for quirks and quillets,
With trains t' inveigle and surprise
Her heedless answers and replies;
And if she miss the mouse-trap lines,
They'll serve for other by-designs;
And make an artist understand
To copy out her seal, or hand;
Or find void places in the paper,
To steal in something to entrap her;
Till with her worldly goods, and body,
Spite of her heart, she has endow'd ye:

9 Bongey was a Franciscan, and lived towards the end of the thirteenth century; a doctor of divinity in Oxford, and a particular acquaintance of friar Bacon's. In that ignorant age every thing that seemed extraordinary was reputed magic, and so both Bacon and Bongey went under the imputation of studying the black art. Bongey also, publishing a treatise of natural magic, confirmed some well-meaning credulous people in this opinion; but it was altogether groundless, for Bongey was chosen provincial of his order, being a person of most excellent parts and piety.